


starting over

by neobionic



Category: HINAPIA (Band), PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Idol Life, dieting, plastic surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 22:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21417991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neobionic/pseuds/neobionic
Summary: when everything falls apart, minkyung has to piece herself and the others back together.
Relationships: Kang Kyungwon | Yuha/Kim Minkyung | Roa, OT5 - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	starting over

**Author's Note:**

> this is a work of fiction etc etc i don't mean to say this is how things happened
> 
> also got a lot longer than i expected oops

a year and a half. some sixteen months. it hasn’t been that long, but it feels like forever. 

the long corridors of the broadcasting building. the dressing room (shared, but still) with their name on it . the printer paper with lines in black marker, pinned to the door with two pieces of clear tape.

the smell of powder and hairspray. nail glue. fresh pleather.

stylist unnie hurrying in with her hangers clad in plastic casing, filling the rack by the wall. one by one, going into the bathroom to strip down and then be put back together from scratch. fitting into short shorts and tight tops. 

maybe it shouldn’t feel right, but it does.

makeup unnie’s concentrated face, the dipping and dabbing of brushes. lashes, shimmer, lipstick. being covered, built up, step by step. jewellry, accessories. checking the hair over and over, making sure every strand is where it should be. dolled up to perfection.

minkyung looks at herself in the large mirrors framed with lightbulbs. her mouth curls up.

she has missed this.

the announcement hit harder than it should have.

they could see it coming, the signs adding up, one by one. but you don’t want to see it. you ignore it, go about your daily life as usual, hoping. waiting. hoping.

their hours with the coaches decreased until it was up to themselves if they wanted to practice something. the higher-ups stopped checking in, stopped calling to meetings. the managers grew lax, stopped enforcing rules, looked away more and more.

some of them started preparing for it, consciously or not. some grew rebellious, using their newfound freedom to date and smoke and eat whatever they wanted. solo ventures not promoted or protested by the company. 

but most of them still hoped.

the fans wondered, hoping as well, but the members were under radio silence. some of them didn’t obey it. secretly went on message boards and group chats, posted selfies and little dance clips and messages. apologies. asking them to wait. just a little bit longer.

practice, studio, dorms. dancing, singing, writing songs. coming home, eating chicken breast and salad, going to sleep. repeat. waiting, waiting, waiting.

so came the day when they were all (well, almost all) called into a conference room. a company official stood at the front and spoke in careful business terms. but minkyung could read between the lines. _it’s over. we’re giving up on you._

her heart sank deep into her belly. it turned icy cold, shrinking into itself. here it was, at last. out in the open.

it doesn’t matter how good you are. it doesn’t matter how much potential you have. you can still be thrown out like a cheap toy. disposable. replaceable. unprofitable.

deep down, she knew it was coming. but it still hurt.

they fought that night. what could have been a discussion; constructive communication to process the whole thing, make sense of things and find mutual support, turned into a shouting match. the pain, the fear - taking it all out on each other.

and minkyung knew then that yeah, they were over. they would never be together again. some of them wanted to stay, some wanted to leave. some of them wanted to try again, some were done with it. but things had happened that couldn’t unhappen, things had been said that couldn’t be unsaid. it would never be the same again.

yebin came into her room in the early morning.

yewon had finally dozed off, snoring softly in the bunk above after nearly two hours of muffled sniffles and sobs. siyeon had marched in shortly after that, quietly crawled down into her bed and then not moved. minkyung was lying on her back, wide awake. the last time she checked her phone, it was three forty-five.

the door cracked open, a strip of hallway light falling over the floor. someone slipped inside, carefully closing the door again, and then feet pattered softly towards her. a weight pressed down on the side of her mattress. minkyung slid up to sit. it was too dark to see anything but vague shapes, but she could almost tell who it was, just from body language, from aura.

“unnie,” yebin whispered. it was barely more than mouthed to not wake the others. a hand fumbled over the sheet and minkyung reached out to take it. their fingers hooked into each other.

“unnie,” she said again.

“yeah?” minkyung breathed back.

yebin seemed to pause, maybe swallowed. “what are we gonna do?”

they were given two weeks to move out of the dorm. one by one they packed up their stuff and left.

minkyung’s mom came to pick her up. minkyung went down to the lobby to let her into the building. she didn’t expect it, but the sight of her mother made something well up inside her. the feelings she thought she had handled and muted, suddenly pushing like a dam threatening to crack. 

her mom’s face was full of tender worry. “oh, honey.”

minkyung teared up. before she could do anything about it her face twisted in an ugly grimace and she choked out a sob. her mother’s arms came around her and minkyung pressed her face into her shoulder. the fabric of her sweater grew wet. minkyung felt like a child, but she allowed it. for a minute at least, let herself feel small and weak and vulnerable. let herself be cared for.

kyungwon was lounging around when they carried the bags out into the hallway. she looked casual, as always, but minkyung knew better. knew her well enough to see the details, the subtle things slipping through the exterior. she was restless.

“where are you heading, kyungwon-ah?” minkyung’s mom asked. “back to gwangju?”

kyungwon shook her head. “i’m looking for a goshiwon,” she said. “so i can get out of here. then we’ll see.”

minkyung’s mom frowned. “a goshiwon? here in seoul?” 

“yeah.” kyungwon’s face stretched in a smile. “i’ll be fine. don’t worry.”

minkyung’s mom looked over to minkyung and then back. her mouth pursed, jaw setting stiff. she seemed to hesitate, but only for a moment. “you’re coming with us.”

kyungwon blinked. “pardon?”

“i won’t let you spend a fortune to live in a cupboard, all on your own.” she beckoned roughly with her hand. “pack your bags. you can stay with us.”

the two of them sat together in the backseat, all the way to chuncheon. at one point kyungwon’s hand snuck over the backpack between them. her fingers found minkyung’s. minkyung held them.

silence at the dinner table. minkyung picked at her rice. her mom constantly tried to put more food into kyungwon’s bowls.

minkyung’s dad wiped over his chin, rough palm rasping over stubble. “this is an unfortunate situation, for all of you.” he sighed. “what are you planning to do?”

minkyung glanced to her side, meeting kyungwon’s eyes.

“we don’t know.”

she spent long hours on the phone with the others.

living so closely with a bunch of people for several years and then suddenly being uprooted and scattered… it’s not strange that it felt weird. unnatural.

things had to be said. friendships mended. time had to be spent together, even if they were hours apart. sometimes they would just sit quietly, listening to each other breathe.

eunwoo talked. eunwoo talked a lot. minkyung let her. minkyung listened to her meandering rants, train of thought lost and tangled and then reappearing somewhere else. she was aware that eunwoo was sometimes talking more to herself than to minkyung. seemed, at times, almost to forget that there was someone on the other side of the line.

“unnie.” 

“mm?” minkyung replied. she could tell, somehow, that eunwoo’s voice had shifted.

“what do you want?”

they had discussed this several times. the questions of where to go, what to do was hanging over all of them. but there was a finality in this one, something formal in eunwoo’s voice.

her and kyungwon had similar talks, late at night when they were supposed to be asleep. minkyung in her bed, kyungwon on the cot set up by the bookcase at the other side of the room. the lights off, just kyungwon’s voice through the darkness.

“why are we doing this?”

minkyung had asked herself the same question many times. more frequently during the last couple of weeks. why does she want this so badly? is it worth all that it takes?

you have to love it. the thrill of going on stage, the adoration from the fans, the attention (good and bad). you have to crave it. if not, you won’t make it.

when they ran out of words there was just the silence. 

the bed felt strangely large. the distance between them vast. 

minkyung turned her head, looking out towards the faint outline of a body under the blankets. 

“come?” she whispered.

for a few long seconds nothing happened. then sheets rustled, the legs of the cot squeaked. bare feet, light over the floor.

minkyung scooted over, lifting the covers to let kyungwon slide in underneath. she was warm. naked arms, long legs. minkyung quietly sucked in her smell.

june. the four of them around the kitchen table in eunwoo’s parents’ house in bucheon. 

“how do we even do this?” eunwoo asked nobody in particular. she had a notebook and some pens spread out in front of her, but it hadn’t produced anything more than a couple of frustrated doodles. “do we just call around and go, like, _hey, do you guys want us?_”

kyungwon snorted.

minkyung played with a strand of her short hair. they had been in the business for several years, they knew the basics of how it worked. connections, exposure, investors. but they weren’t nayoung or kyulkyung. they didn’t have agencies tripping over their feet to recruit them. at this point, they were just _former girl group members._

it was smart to stick together. they were more worth together than one by one. it was a crass, detached way of looking at it, but it was the truth. they were a product, and they had to market themselves.

“should we make a sales pitch?” yebin giggled.

minkyung shrugged. “worth a shot.”

the first meeting took place in a coffee shop. the three _representatives_, as they called themselves, barely looked older than minkyung. kids, probably fresh out of college, who had dipped their toes into showbiz and now got the brilliant idea to start an entertainment agency.

the leader, as it seemed - a plain-looking guy with a t-shirt and a bad haircut - fumbled with his papers and pushed his glasses up on his slippery nose. “so yeah, we think you have a lot of potential. and we’ve been in touch with several notable sponsors who are interested in funding this project.” 

this was not your average job interview, minkyung was aware. the people on the other side of the table seemed equally eager to impress the four of them as the other way around. in the back of her head, minkyung wondered who had the upper hand.

that could be a good thing. but it could also be bad.

she glanced to her sides, catching eunwoo’s eyes. her trained smile was polite and natural, but her eyebrows were slightly raised.

they didn’t sign anything, obviously. the meeting ended with handshakes and pleasantries and promises to be in touch.

“is this a good idea?” eunwoo asked when they were back at minkyung’s mom’s car in the parking garage. “what the fuck are we doing?”

“do we have any better options?” kyungwon had her hip leaned against the car door, arms crossed over her chest.

“we could wait,” yebin said. “we could look around more. we don’t have to jump the gun here.”

the three of them seemed to turn towards minkyung, almost at the same time. minkyung felt a knot in her belly. how did she end up here again? 

she was the oldest now. no nayoung to cling to, to dump responsibilities on.

“let’s sleep on it,” she said. she looked around at them, checking for dissent. “okay?”

there’s always a risk. aren’t they the prime example of that? even with a famous, reputable agency there’s no guarantee you’ll make it. there’s no promise things will work out. if you want job security you should go for another career. 

showbiz is quick and cut-throat. blink and you’ll be replaced. disappear for a year and you’re forgotten. you have to strike while the iron’s hot.

minkyung knows it’s hard. knows how much you have to give up. knows how much work and pain and disappointment she needs to prepare herself for.

sometimes she feels worn thin. wonders how much she has in her, how long she’ll be able to keep at it. if she breaks, what will it take to pick herself back up?

but she’s not done yet. she still has juice in her. she can keep going.

minkyung’s hand was shaking slightly as she held the phone to her ear. the others were crowded around her, leaned in over the table, staring at her.

“yes,” she said, trying to emulate the formal lingo of old meetings with the company bigwigs. “yes. we have come to a decision. we have decided to accept your offer and would like to negotiate the terms of our contracts.”

“oh, oh, okay,” the young male voice in her ear stuttered. there seemed to be a quiver of excitement in it. he whispered something unintelligible to someone beside him, then he was back, breathing into the receiver. “so you’re in?”

minkyung blinked. “yeah,” she said. she couldn’t help but grin. “yeah. we’re in.”

eunwoo looked awful when she came home from the clinic. the bruising seemed worse than it did the first time. half of her face was covered in bandaging and cast, the bits of skin visible blooming in sallow and blue. 

minkyung and kyungwon went to her parents’ house to see her, bringing snacks and manhwa. eunwoo thanked them, grinning as much as the pain would let her, but put the box of choco cookies away on her night stand. 

“i can’t eat this. we gotta start dieting again.” 

minkyung and kyungwon exchanged a glance across the bed. neither of them mentioned the calorific indulgences they had been allowing themselves back in chuncheon. ice cream on the town; cup noodles in the evenings; chips and jelly worms while sprawled on minkyung’s floor, watching crappy daytime dramas and wallowing in their misfortunes.

eunwoo beamed at them through her puffy eyes. “it’s time for comeback preps again!”

two weeks later the cast came off, the swelling had gone down and she was starting to look human again. she stopped to check herself in every reflective surface she passed, tilting her head around to see the result from different angles.

“it looks great, right?”

minkyung always nodded. “yeah.”

truth to be told, she couldn’t tell much of a difference. eunwoo’s nose was a little straighter, a little more sloped, nostrils slightly more even. minkyung knows you can’t see the actual outcome until it has healed properly, but she secretly wondered if it was worth it.

the nose job was eunwoo’s idea, paid for by her dad. their new agency had barely mentioned the subject, too busy juggling assets and expenses, hunting for sponsors and freelancers and trying to keep the whole thing afloat and running. they didn’t seem to have the budget for that kind of long term investments either. 

it’s not that minkyung hasn’t had work done. they all have, just like everyone else in their line of work. but eunwoo’s ambitions are next level.

it made questions form in the back of minkyung’s head. that old topic of _what it’s worth_. how far would she be willing to go? some things can’t be undone. some things can’t unhappen. 

she had no answer to that. but she didn’t ask the others for one either.

eunwoo’s concerns were contagious. minkyung also started looking at herself more closely in the mirror again. seeing things she could change. things that could be made better.

kyungwon and yebin also took a couple of trips to the clinic. mostly smaller, cheaper things; fillers and tweaks.

kyungwon’s face grew smoother, fuller, tauter. her lips took a slightly different shape. in some of her carefully posed and filtered selfies she looked like a different person. 

she’s beautiful. but that’s not where her charms are.

“do you think i should do it too?” minkyung asked one time when they were locked in the bathroom together.

“do what?” kyungwon asked. she was leaned up to the mirror, drawing a thin black line just above her lashes.

minkyung was sitting on the toilet lid, legs pulled up to her chest. she chewed on her lip. “fillers? a nose job? i dunno, what do you think i need?”

kyungwon turned to her, eyes narrowed. then she grinned. “you don’t need anything. you’re gorgeous.” she reached out to run a strand of minkyung’s hair through her fingers. “i like you the way you are.”

_what the fuck does that mean?_ minkyung wondered.

in july they moved into their new dorm. it’s nothing fancy - an old apartment with three small rooms, located halfway out into the burbs.

minkyung distantly pondered the security of the place as she tapped in the code at the gate. were they gonna get special visits from “fans”? come back home one day and find certain possessions missing?

contracts signed and everything official, they were also introduced to the handful of trainees the company had acquired.

their practice rooms are in the basement of some office building, probably rented and converted storage space because some unidentified boxes still littered the corners. but one of the walls had been fitted with full-length mirrors; few windows, most of which inaccessible from the outside; and minkyung thought silently to herself that it could be worse. a lot worse. 

laughter and chatter fell silent as they walked in. five teenaged girls lined up on cue. they took turns bowing and saying their names, wide puppy-eyes sparkling up at the four of them.

minkyung found herself a little embarrassed by the sunbae treatment. they were about to be in the same group. members.

the girls were all cute, giggling when yebin and kyungwon joked around with them, trying to warm them up. one of the reps asked them to show something they had been working on and they performed a dance cover of a popular girl group song. then three of them sang a short bit of a ballad, acapella.

none of them were bad, but none of them were amazing either. needed some polishing, some more time, but then they’d be fine candidates.

minkyung wondered how many members this new group of theirs would end up having. how many she would have to compete against for attention.

she hoped it would be less than ten.

_none of them were bad, but none of them were amazing either._

in her moments of self-doubt, minkyung wondered if this didn’t apply to her and the other three as well.

“_Hi New Amazing Utopia?_” yebin’s face scrunched up. “what the fuck kind of name is that?”

company meeting. the coffee shop had been upgraded to the side room behind the large practice halls in the basement. it had been valiantly furnished with a small oval table, padded chairs and a whiteboard.

there was five of them now. (no more than five.)

four members of the alseulbit staff sat across them.

the meeting was pretty much formality. they already knew most of what was going to be said. but it still felt good to gather, sit around a conference table, shake hands. felt official.

“so, as you know, the lineup’s done.” four-eyes nodded in bada’s direction. “we’ve decided on the group name and bought your debut track.”

they had already heard the demo. minkyung was relieved to genuinely like it.

“the tentative release date is november first. we’re looking into music show slots.”

november. they had three months to prepare. to practice, record, shoot, polish everything to perfection. it felt like an eternity but also not nearly enough.

questions, polite well-wishes, promises to work hard. 

four-eyes looked over his papers again. he seemed to have aged ten years since the first time minkyung saw him.

“so, minkyung.”

“yes?”

“are you okay with being the leader? since you’re the oldest, and…” he waved a hand at them. whatever he tried to say, he didn’t seem to find the words.

minkyung knew it was coming. “yes,” she said. “it’s fine. i will do my best.”

minkyung had stayed cautiously optimistic so far. she had heard enough horror stories from the industry to know they weren’t out of the woods just because they were signed. so many things could go wrong, fall through, never happen.

but now that things were actually (actually) happening, she wanted to tell the fans. she wanted nothing more than to go on the group chats and say _i’m sorry, we’re sorry, but we’re working on it. we’re on our way now. just wait, just a little bit longer. wait for us._

she knew (hoped) there were people who still cared. who’d cheer for her, who’d support her, no matter where she went. she wanted to give back to them. come back to the stage and give them a bit of her in return.

but they were on strict orders to keep mum. nothing until the official announcement. three months of working in secret, sitting on this big surprise, hoping too many wouldn’t give up on waiting in the mean time.

being leader has its perks; one of them being that minkyung had last say in dividing the rooms (not that this was a likely cause of conflict). she put bada and yebin in one, eunwoo and kyungwon in another, and herself to room with manager unnie. there were no protests.

she did this primarily because staff, unlike idols, are able to have a semblance of life outside work, meaning that manager unnie had an actual home to go to and would sleep there most nights when they weren’t busy. 

minkyung didn’t mind sharing a room with her members in the past. it was the way they lived, and though it could be annoying, there were also nice things about it. she’s a single child, but the members were probably as close to sisters as you can get.

maybe she had developed a bigger need for privacy lately. either way, she didn’t feel bad about basically grabbing the single room for herself. it was her reward for the responsibility, the slightly bigger workload.

there are downsides to it as well. 

she couldn't shake the feeling that four-eyes wanted to say that she has leadership qualities. anything other than seniority in age. but that he couldn't. 

kyungwon walked in on her crying one night.

minkyung was sitting on the side of her bed, trying to get the sobs out as quietly as possible, and thought she had locked the door.

kyungwon, quick in thought as always, immediately turned the lock and kneeled down in front of her. “what’s wrong?”

minkyung knew she looked a mess, cheeks wet and nose running, but she didn’t have to care. not in front of kyungwon.

“i can’t do this,” she blubbered. “i can’t… how am i supposed to do this?”

the last couple of days had been rough. they had been in the practice room from dawn till sundown, running on too few calories.

it doesn’t matter how dedicated you all are. doesn’t matter how much you want it. you still have moments when you just don’t really care anymore. 

trying to keep the group together, keep their spirits up, keep them going for just another day, another hour, another minute. this is the job of the leader. if they fail, it’s minkyung’s head on the chopping block.

endlessly encouraging bada even when her expressions were stiff. keeping eunwoo and yebin from bickering when they got cranky. being the one to get off the floor at the end of the five minute break, even if your limbs felt heavy like led, say _come on, just one more round._

yebin leaned on her in the car when she was tired. minkyung let her. 

bada looked to her whenever she was unsure, whenever she needed directions or praise. minkyung gave it.

eunwoo came to her to vent when she was exhausted, when she had doubts, when she needed to get all the bad and heavy and ugly thoughts out of her. minkyung listened.

kyungwon can be mean when she’s tired. when she hasn’t slept, when she hasn’t eaten, when every muscle in her body is sore. she didn’t take it out on the younger ones, especially not bada. but to minkyung it slipped out sometimes. comments, tones, rolls of the eyes. and minkyung took it.

but now kyungwon was in front of her, brows furrowed, hands on her face and knees and arms. she found a towel and patted minkyung’s cheeks so gently. listened hard to piece together the jumbled words and broken sentences.

“roro,” she said, the old nickname probably slipping out by habit. “you’re not alone in this. we’re not kids. we don’t need you to be a mom. we just need you to be you.”

minkyung nodded dutifully, sniffing. she had calmed down a bit.

“you have to talk to us when you have problems. we’re in this together. we’ve been through so much already. we have your back.” kyungwon tucked some hair behind minkyung’s ear. “i have your back.”

kyungwon cupped her face, kissed her on the cheeks, over and over. soft, dry, clean lips. no lipgloss. no lashes or scented powder. just kyungwon. just kyungwon and minkyung, nothing between them.

she wrapped her arms around minkyung’s neck and pulled her close. minkyung lifted her arms (with some effort) to hook them around kyungwon’s waist. let herself be held. let herself be cared for.

being the main act of a tiny, newly-started agency run by people who just barely know what they’re doing turned out to have its perks as well. when eunwoo and kyungwon went to a cat cafe and fell in love with a pair of rescues up for adoption, minkyung called up four-eyes and informed him that unless someone objected, they would have two cats move into the dorm.

four-eyes, who sounded stressed and slightly lost as he usually did these days, told her to go ahead, like he was confused as to why she would ask him.

“after debut we want full access to the social media accounts,” she told him in a meeting. “we want to be able to post what we want and stream when we want. we want to communicate with our fans.”

this time it was just the two of them. they did this sometimes - meeting up to check in with each other, him as the rep for the staff and her as rep for the group. making sure everything progressed smoothly, being able to address any issues.

minkyung can count the times she met the pledis CEO on one hand.

four-eyes nodded. “sounds great. we want you to have a strong online presence.”

minkyung raised her hand to catch a drop of sweat running down her face, wiping it off on her pants. she came right from practice, told the others to take a break till she got back. she was aware she looked messy; red-faced, saggy tank with her sports bra peeking out, bangs pulled back into a bushy apple tail. actual practice looks, not “dance practice video” looks. but she didn’t care. 

if four-eyes didn’t know how the sausage was made, it was high time he found out.

he seemed to trust her. seemed to trust all four of them - which made sense, considering they all had several years of experience over him. minkyung trained for three years before pristin. yebin for six. they had already been through a debut, plus a high profile survival show. album releases, shoots, music shows, variety shows. quite an impressive resume, once you think about it.

but she couldn’t run a company, manage a group (at least not one that she’s in). all the stuff happening behind the scenes, the things fans don’t see, not even in “behind the scenes” footage. so many calls to make, emails to write, asses to kiss. documents, budgets, employees, marketing strategies. making sure everyone and everything is where they should be when they should be there. she understands why four-eyes has his hands full.

a pop group, like any business venture, is a multi-part machinery. everybody needs to do their part for the whole thing to run smoothly. if four-eyes trusted her with her side of the job, she would trust him with his. 

there are other benefits to having her own room. she can text kyungwon late at night, when she can't sleep; _u awake?_

if kyungwon isn't sleeping either she can get up and sneak across the hall into minkyung's room. slide down under minkyung's sheets. just like they got into the habit of doing during those months back in chuncheon.

sometimes they just spoon. lying there, in silence, or quietly talking, until they drift off. minkyung likes the privacy, likes getting some space and time to herself once in a while, but she also likes the comfort of another warm body. 

or they don't sleep. kyungwon might nuzzle close, put their lips together to kiss her. slide a hand under her clothes. 

skin on skin, fingers knowing how to move, minkyung struggling to muffle her moans. this is something the younger ones don't need to know about. 

they don't have time to date, even if they were allowed. using dating apps or hooking up with strangers in a club isn't a great idea if you're a celebrity, or trying to be. this is just one of the many things you have to give up. 

but minkyung doesn't mind. kyungwon can give her what she needs, and vice versa. it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. it helps with the stress, takes the edge off things. 

and there's something freeing about it. about being laid bare. no makeup, no cameras, no persona. being with someone who already knows all of you. who has seen everything there is to see of you. 

minkyung thinks that kyungwon looking up at her from between her legs, licking her lips, flashing a grin… that’s when she’s the most gorgeous.

in general, comeback preps are good times. infinitely better than waiting, than hovering in promotional vacuum, in uncertainty. it’s hard work, but it’s rewarding. you’re doing something, making something, looking forward to something.

there is a culture of self-flagellatory dedication in the industry. like the more you suffer, the more you give up, the better you are. you feel good about yourself after pulling an all-nighter or skipping a meal because it’s a testament to your hard work, to the strength of your will.

but you’re not a better performer when you’re starved and sleep-deprived. you’re not prettier, funnier, more charming.

minkyung had this epiphany one morning when she wobbled into the practice room on three hours of sleep, head spinning after an apple and a double espresso for breakfast, and could barely remember the choreography.

after that she decided to take it down a notch. just a little. 

she calls it a day a little bit earlier in the evening. she orders an extra side dish for dinner. she lets herself hit snooze one more time in the morning. and maybe she’s imagining things, but it seems to do something. not just for herself, but for the others as well.

she still cries in the bathroom, but maybe she walks out to let yebin see her red eyes afterwards, yebin immediately coming to her with a worried frown, stroking her hair and pulling her in for a hug.

she voices her concerns to eunwoo once in a while. and then it’s an actual conversation, not just nodding and listening.

it doesn’t matter that you’ve done this before. you’re always learning, always growing.

and she thinks, when they’re sitting together on the floor of the practice room or their tiny lounge, eating and talking and goofing off, eunwoo laughing till she’s red in the face, yebin clutching her belly, kyungwon spilling sauce on the floor, bada getting more and more comfortable around them… that there are no other people she’d rather do this with.

on stand-by, just behind the stage. the feeling both foreign and familiar. like this is the first time, and like she’s been doing it for years. (in a way, both are true.)

an irrational fear has been nesting in her, growing during the last couple of days. what if they go out there and the place is empty? maybe just a handful of people, half-heartedly cheering. what if nobody is left, waiting for them?

she knows it’s not true. she saw them waiting outside of the building. she can hear them piling into the studio, excited chatter, the occasional calls of their names.

the fear has been replaced with good old nerves. she shifts around on her feet, unable to stay still, heart hammering in her chest. she can feel goosebumps on her legs but she doesn’t feel the cold of the large studio. she is only aware of the energy in her muscles, the adrenaline in her veins, the task ahead of her. she knows every detail of the routine by heart, could probably do it while dead asleep.

she looks around and sees the same in her teammates. kyungwon has a deep wrinkle between her brows. eunwoo is mouthing the lyrics to herself. bada actually seems to be the calmest one.

a member of the staff with a headset waves them closer. they squeeze in right by the side of the stage. the noise from the crowd changes; from relaxed and casual to alert. 

they’ve been waiting. just like minkyung. waiting for this moment.

she fumbles beside her in the dark, finds a hand on her left, a wrist on her right. eunwoo’s and bada’s. they both take her sweaty fingers, almost exactly at the same time. like on cue, their huddled formation shifts around to a tight circle. 

they don’t have a team cheer yet. they will have to come up with one. but minkyung doesn’t think they need it right now. she meets the eyes of her members, lit by the flashing spotlights from above. sees the focus in them, the readiness.

the staff member says something into his headset, then nods at minkyung and points towards the stairs.

minkyung nods back. she grins at the others. squeezes the hands in hers. “let’s do this.”


End file.
